


Dead Birds Are Definitely In The Guide Of How To Woo A Moomintroll

by PrinceJakeFireCake



Series: The Guide Of How To Woo A Moomintroll [2]
Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Blood, Companion Piece, Dead animals, Feral Snufkin, It Wasn't Because He Didn't Give Him A Bird, Joxter Never Wooed Moominpappa, Letters, Little My Is Done With Everyone, Love Letters, M/M, MY BABIES, Moomin Is Still Into It, More Blood Than Ever Before, Pining, Snufkin Takes Horrible Advice, Sorry Not Sorry, Tell Me If There's Anything Else To Tag, The Dumbass Crime Siblings, i'm a bit sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceJakeFireCake/pseuds/PrinceJakeFireCake
Summary: A companion piece to Dead Birds Are Not In the Guide Of How To Woo Moomintrolls, from Snufkin's point of view. Why was Snufkin acting so weird in the original story? Here are the answers! Slight warning that the blood is a bit worse in this one, though still pretty light.





	Dead Birds Are Definitely In The Guide Of How To Woo A Moomintroll

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write Joxter giving Snufkin terrible advice. It was necessary. It wouldn't leave my mind until I did it. Wood Kettle, the Mumrik at the beginning, is my Moominsona, so don't judge me too harshly. I had to put her somewhere, my sweet box child. Enjoy!

Snufkin was only a few days out in his winter travels. He was far enough out to miss Moomintroll, immensely, but that was hardly new. He sometimes found himself missing Moomin when Moomin went to into a different room of Moominhouse than him. He tried not to feel so much for him, but it was surprisingly difficult. Moomin was pretty much the perfect man. Snufkin blushed and pulled his hat down over his face.

"Oh!" a voice exclaimed. "Sorry, didn't know this spot was taken- oh, hello, Snufkin."

Snufkin's head snapped up. He recognized the other Mumrik, of course, since she'd found him only two winters before with a letter from his father, despite not having ever met him before that moment. Wood Kettle often bragged about being bale to find anyone, including other traveling Mumriks that no one else could find.

"Oh, it's perfect that you're here," Snufkin told her, taking her arm and forcing her to a seat near his campsite. "You must know about people, Wood Kettle."

"Must I?" she questioned, confused. "I think it's far more likely that I've been faking, this whole time."

"This is important, shut your mouth," Snufkin huffed. Wood Kettle shrugged, but didn't leave, so Snufkin took that as a green flag to continue. "I find myself lost in my thoughts."

"That's not very new," Wood Kettle noted.

"All I can think about is my dearest friend, Moomintroll, and how great he is. He's basically perfect, and wonderful, and smart, he's very smart, and he's so fluffy, and he let's me sleep on his lap, sometimes, so he's the kindest person in this world-"

"Are you sure you don't have some sort of romantic feeling towards this Moomintroll?" Wood Kettle suggested, though she never looked directly at his face.

"That's just it!" Snufkin cried. "How would I go about wooing him? I know he likes me, and quite a bit, but I need to woo him, just so we're on the same page, right?"

"Is that how one goes about it?"

"You must know how people woo Moomintrolls."

"I've never even met a Moomintroll!" she laughed. "I only know what the Joxter and yourself have told me about them."

"The Joxter talks about Moomintrolls?" Snufkin questioned.

"In between talking about you and the Mymble and his many, many adopted children that are the Mymble's," Wood Kettle agreed.

"Can I send him a letter, Wood Kettle? He must know how to woo-"

Wood Kettle seemed on the verge of laughing out loud as she handed him a large stack of papers. Snufkin looked at her questioningly. She tilted her hat, which was actually just a small, metal box, at him. 

"You can ask your father for help, but have you considered writing to your darling, instead?" she asked, chewing on a piece of grass she picked up.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'm well-read, Snufkin," she bragged. "I've read many romance novels. It's very romantic to write love letters, you know?"

"I didn't." Snufkin looked down at the papers, then back up. "But, what would I write for him? I've never written a love letter."

"Was does he like hearing from you?" she responded, long tail flicking lazily as she lounged on her stomach. "Start there, if anywhere. Write a letter to the Joxter, I'll take it in the morning, but it will take him a while to get to you. Try to get a head start."

"Moomintroll likes hearing of my adventures," Snufkin hummed, thoughtful. 

"Perfect," she purred. "Just tell him your adventures. Oh! Mention when you think of him! That's always the most romantic."

"All right," Snufkin agreed, then started writing a letter to the Joxter, first.

"If it all goes well, invite me to the wedding," Wood Kettle commented, suddenly, as she offered some chocolate-covered coffee beans. "I must see what the fuss is about Moomintrolls. If two other Mumriks find them nigh irresistible, I must be the same, right?"

"The Joxter also likes Mymbles and Witches and Phantoms and everything else that moves," Snufkin replied. "Maybe, you'll be like him."

"I've assumed Moomins move," Wood Kettle murmured.

"They do. That's why the Joxter is attracted to them."

They both snickered. In the morning, leaving Snufkin with only a handful of her precious coffee beans, Wood Kettle took the letter with a tip of her hat and hopped off back into the forest. Snufkin began writing his memoir, of sorts, to Moomintroll.

 

Spring came around slowly, to Snufkin, who'd spent all of winter speaking a one-sided conversation to Moomintroll, which was unbearable. He hadn't seen Wood Kettle or his father, so he had only the one thing to go on. He found himself agitated as he walked a bit quicker than usual back to Moominvalley. Nobody would notice if he was back a bit sooner, right? Maybe, Little My, but she didn't count as a person if Snufkin ignored her long enough.

Snufkin was nearly a week early, even if the winter was clearing out that early. He set up his tent as slowly as he could bare, went inside to put the finishing touches on his letter to Moomintroll, rolled around in the dry patches of grass just to itch the scratch on his back that'd been there all winter, and found that only an hour has passed. He huffed.

As early as he could convince himself it was fine, which was the day before winter officially ended, Snufkin sat on the railing of the bridge and pulled out his harmonica. Moomintroll was out of his house, running towards him, only a moment later. Snufkin smiled at him. Moomin bounced up and down on the bridge, asking countless questions.

"It's a bit early, isn't it?" Moomintroll asked, eyes wide with worry.

"Well, I thought you'd be happy to see me early," Snufkin commented, willing down his blush. "I can just leave, if that'd make you feel better."

"Oh, no! Don't leave! I just don't want you to be sick or hurt, Snufkin," Moomin corrected.

Snufkin shoved down the purr fighting to rumble out. Instead, he pulled out the letter, gently handing it to Moomin.

"I wrote you a letter, of sorts," he mumbled, blushing. "It's not anything special, just a little memoir-of-sorts you can read. It's on paper, because that's a bit cheaper and it was all I had on hand. It's easier to burn, too, if you don't like it."

"Oh, I love it!" Moomin exclaimed, gently giving Snufkin a hug.

Snufkin couldn't resist hugging back, even if it ended too soon. Moomintroll gave him a broad smile that Snufkin was helpless not to smile back at. He grabbed Snufkin's paw, leading him back to Moominhouse and explaining that Mamma was working on breakfast and Snufkin simply must come eat with them. Snufkin allowed himself to be lead. Maybe, he thought, the letter was all he'd need.

 

Snufkin was actually quite glad when, only two weeks later, the Joxter showed up. The letter had not been enough, and Snufkin was way too nervous and lost to do anything else. Snufkin was fishing, his pole stuck in the ground next to him and Little My humming along to his harmonica, when the Joxter draped himself over Snufkin's back with a loud purr.

"All right, I'm here," he stated, chin on Snufkin's head. "What's up, children?"

"Oh no," Little My whispered.

"That's no way to speak to your father," Joxter huffed.

"You're not my real dad," Little My told him, as she always did.

The Joxter only purred and smiled at her, patting her head lazily. Later that night, after both Snufkin and Little My claimed they didn't need dinner, to Moomin's surprise, the three sat in a little circle around Snufkin's fire.

"Don't you want to see Moominpappa?" Snufkin questioned. "I thought you were friends."

"I'm waiting for him to lock a door," Joxter explained.

"Good luck," Little My told him. "He checks twice a night to make sure they're unlocked."

"That's a bit cruel," Joxter huffed, though he was laughing. Finally, he turned to Snufkin expectantly. "Okay, enough putting it off. Who d'you wanna woo? I know all about wooing people, so it's a good thing you wrote to me-"

"I am not going through this again," Little My hissed. "He is the worst at wooing! It doesn't work on anything!"

"I totally wooed the Mymble," Joxter commented.

"The Mymble doesn't count!" Little My screeched, tugging on her hair. "She's weird!"

"Anyway, son," Joxter said, putting his elbow on Little My's head and leaning on her. "Who are you wooing? It's gotta be someone difficult, if you asked me for help."

"Moomintroll," Snufkin replied.

Little My and Joxter both stared at him, openly shocked.

"He's a bit old for you, don't you think, son?" Joxter laughed, nervously, shifting uncomfortably at the idea. 

"No, no, no," Snufkin corrected quickly. "I don't mean your Moomintroll, I mean his son, Moomintroll."

"Oh!" Joxter chirped, happier. Snufkin couldn't tell if he had been uncomfortable with jealousy or about the age difference, but he had brightened immensely now. "I know precisely how to woo Moomintrolls."

"Didn't Moominpappa once throw you out of a second-story window?" Little My asked.

"Is that what he goes by, now?" Joxter hummed. "Moominpappa? That suits him, especially if he has a kid."

"Wait, you really don't think Moomin is infatuated with you?" Little My questioned Snufkin. "Seriously? You're all he talks about. Constantly. It's obnoxious how much he talks about you."

"I need to make sure," Snufkin replied, playing with a rock beside him. "Besides, everyone would like to be wooed, Little My."

"I wouldn't," was the immediate reply.

Joxter, who had been thinking rather hard the whole time, suddenly piped up with, "What have you tried, so far?"

"I wrote him a letter, over the winter," Snufkin told them. "He seemed pretty excited, but it's been two weeks now, and nothing's changed."

"Good start!" Joxter said proudly. "It's like a declaration that the wooing will start!"

"Well, yes, I suppose," Snufkin hummed.

"Why didn't you just keep up the letters?" Little My asked. "If he was so excited to get the first one, don't you think he'd like more?"

"I wouldn't want to bore him," Snufkin muttered.

"Did you try a dead mouse?" Joxter asked, at the same time Little My stated, "Do not try a dead mouse."

"What?" Snufkin questioned. "Dead mouse? Would anyone like to receive a dead mouse?"

"Look," Joxter stated, covering Little My's hand. "Dead mice are key."

He yelped and pulled his hand away when Little My bit it.

"Dead mice are not key!" she huffed. "Just because some dumb Mumrik decided it would be great-"

"Our ancestors aren't dumb," Joxter commented. "A dumb Mumrik never steals that many apples."

"-Does not mean it is!" Little My finished, as though Joxter had never spoken.

"Is it a tradition, or something?" Snufkin asked. 

"For Mumriks," Little My grumbled, though Joxter brightened and nodded.

"Well, I am a Mumrik," Snufkin murmured.

"The Mymble part of you should tell you it's a bad idea," Little My told him.

"It is," Snufkin stated. "But, I did make this little bowl of napkins and a mouse would fit in it."

Little My looked very judgmental, but Joxter looked almost proud. Snufkin only looked at his napkin bowl, stuck together with a little bit of water and made during the two weeks he awaited his father's arrival. It had birds on it.

"Fresh is best," Joxter advised. "Try catching one in the morning and putting it on his pillow."

"By the Gods, if you never listen to me again, do not put a dead creature on Moomin's pillow," Little My ordered.

"I'm sorry, Joxter," Snufkin murmured, "But, I have to side with Little My on this one. Moominpappa did throw you off a boat, once, you know."

"Fine, as long as it's dead and is also a mouse," Joxter agreed.

 

Snufkin played his harmonica a little halfheartedly the next morning, since he didn't really feel like playing his mouse-catching song but found it a necessary evil if he wanted to catch a mouse. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Moomintroll poking his head out the window. Snufkin smiled into the song, helplessly.

Only a moment later, a mouse scuttled by. Snufkin missed it, but Joxter, on the grass lounging lazily with Little My curled delicately on his chest, caught it by the tail. He only released it because Little My opened one eye to glare at him. The next mouse was pounced on by Snufkin, his harmonica dropped mid-tune. He felt it squish and pop beneath his paws. Snufkin quickly removed his hands, but it was too late.

"Ew!" Little My complained, burrowing her face in Joxter's smock.

"It was an accident!" Snufkin exclaimed. He shoved the dead mouse into his mouth so he could grab his harmonica and tiny napkin bowl. Little My looked vaguely like she wanted to throw up, but followed him as he bolted towards the Moominhouse. 

He carefully placed down the napkin bowl, then bit the mouse straight in half when he heard the doorknob turn. He turned, catching the back of Little My's dress in his mouth as he scrambled off the deck and around the house to hide.

"Let me go!" Little My squeaked, wriggling desperately. "I can feel its tail, oh my god, Snufkin, let go!"

Snufkin dropped her, clapping a hand over his mouth to try to keep the blood and half of the mouse in. Little My took pity on him, digging a little hole for him to spit the mouse into. They buried the mouse half. They met eyes and vowed to never tell Joxter what happened. Snufkin desperately wiped his mouth and chin off with his paws and smock.

The pair walked slowly around the back of Moominhouse, Little My eventually telling him as much blood was off as was possible to get off without water. He pitifully lapped at his fingers, just to see his sister squirm. At the sight of his small grin, she punched his side.

"You're so gross!" she complained, loudly, as they rounded the corner and came into view of the Moomins.

The siblings stopped, slightly guilty. Snufkin tried desperately to seem like he wasn't desperate to wipe his fingers off on his smock. Little My's dull look told him he wasn't convincing her, at least.

"What is it?" he asked the Moomins, mostly to annoy Little My, as he stepped up onto the porch. He had to fight not to wince at the sight of the bitten-in-half mouse.

"Snufkin," Little My grumbled, rubbing her paws over her face like an incredibly small, tired old man. "It's a dead mouse."

"How odd!" Snufkin said, a bit louder than he intended. "Who would leave that there?"

"Maybe," Moomin's soft, curious voice drew both siblings' eyes to him immediately, "there's a stray cat."

Little My smirked at Snufkin. He ignored her, pointedly. Snufkin's ignoring Little My led him to glance at Moominpappa. The older Moomintroll looked vaguely like he wanted to punch a hole through a wall and like he wished he was dead, both at the same time.

"Are you okay, Moominpappa?" Snufkin asked, trying for gentle and hoping Moominpappa didn't punch anyone. "You seem a little shocked."

"Oh, I'm fine," Moominpappa grumbled, leaning down and picking up the dead mouse in his bare paw, no hesitation. Snufkin tried not to recoil in disgust too obviously. "I was just thinking about an old friend."

"You looked kind of like you wanted to punch something," Moomin pointed out.

"Some old friends give me that want," Moominpappa stated, leaving on that note.

There was a moment of silence. Snufkin tried to look like he wasn't too obviously wiping blood off his mouth organ. Little My was staring at him, very pointedly, as though it wasn't obvious to both of them who Moominpappa had been referring to. Snufkin wondered, for a brief moment, whether his father wanted him dead, or if he was just a bit dumb. The latter seemed a bit more likely.

"Are you hungry?" Moominmamma asked, gently.

"Yes," Little My stated, and started walking inside. "I'm also thirsty. Where does Pappa keep the good stuff?"

"You can't drink this early in the morning, Dear," Mamma told her, her voice sounding almost amused, then she looked curiously at Moomin and Snufkin.

"I'm afraid I've already eaten," Snufkin murmured, looking down at his mouth organ so he wouldn't see Moominmamma's look of understanding or Moomintroll's look of disgust. "But, thank you for offering."

"I'll eat," Moomin told his mother. Then added, to Snufkin's surprise, "Do you want to do something, after breakfast, Snufkin?"

Snufkin tried not to too obviously perk up, though Moominmamma's face told him he'd failed. He told Moomin about a path he'd found that seemed to lead nowhere. Moomin excitedly agreed that that sounded exciting. Snufkin almost forgot that he'd left a dead mouse on Moomin's doormat, by the time they'd made plans and Moomin had told him, happily, that he would come out as soon as breakfast was over.

"You bit through the mouse," Joxter said, leaning on the railing.

"Shut up, what do you know, anyway?" Snufkin hissed, darting back to the river to shove his head underwater. Joxter, the bastard, didn't even let him drown himself.

 

Snufkin had expected Moomin and Little My to tag along. Little My, behind Moomin's back as they walked, had whispered that they would never speak of the mouse, ever again, because every time she thought of it she could feel its tail on the back of her neck. Snufkin had agreed, thoroughly. Only moments after this mutual agreement, Snorkmaiden wandered by and asked what had happened for them to look so serious. As Moomin explained the morning's events, Sniff showed up, too.

"That's gross, who'd leave a dead mouse on your doormat?" Sniff questioned.

"I'm gonna kill him," Little My whispered.

"Don't," Snufkin hissed back. "Moomin would never date me if he knew I'd helped you hide a body!"

"Maybe," Little My said louder, so everyone looked at her. "Maybe, it's some dumb species mating ritual.

"Viking," Moomin stated, snapping his fingers.

"No," Little My muttered.

Moomin looked a bit put out by that. He only had a few moments to be upset, before the skies opened and rain poured down on them all. They raced, Moomin holding Snufkin's paw so he wouldn't try to wait out the downpour in his tent, back to Moominhouse. Snufkin tried not to purr too obviously.

Moominmamma greeted them with towels and a warm smile. She gave Snufkin some of Moomin's old pajamas, which he blushed at inwardly but only accepted with a polite, apologetic smile. She told him to just hang his clothes over the tub to dry, only for Little My to shake herself off on all fours like a dog. Moominmamma gave her a pointed look and one of her other dresses. Little My and Snufkin both looked appropriately put out as they walked to the bathroom.

"You do have a room here, you know?" Snufkin told her, even as they both changed in the bathroom.

"I change with Mymble all the time!" she complained. "You're weird for thinking about it too much."

"I'm not a girl, unlike Mymble," he responded.

"Yeah, sure," she said, eyeing his chest pointedly. Snufkin covered himself and glared at her. She giggled and slipped out of the room. He followed behind her. He only heard the end of Sniff's speech, "Why do they wear clothes anyway?" What a bold question, Snufkin thought.

"We don't have fur, doofus," Little My stated, sitting on the side of Moomintroll farthest away from Sniff with a pointed look.

"I have fur," Snufkin corrected, automatically, and sat on the other side of Moomin. He noted, in the back of his mind, that he'd left his mouth organ in his clothes but had brought out his pipe. He continued, only half thinking about his words, "Not as much as any of you though, so that's mostly why."

"Hair on your head doesn't count, Snufkin," Sniff argued.

Snufkin tried not to look too annoyed. He carefully pulled up the bottom of the shirt he was wearing, just enough to reveal his light spattering of fur. He didn't have as much as the Joxter, but Joxter had presumed that was because he was part Mymble. Joxter had also pulled up his smock upon their first meeting, which had been vaguely emotionally scarring, but Snufkin was mostly over it. He lowered his shirt, instead packing his pipe.

"If you have fur-" Snufkin could already tell this would be an annoying question, "-why do you wear clothes?"

"He'd get cold!" Snorkmaiden defended him. "He's only got a little bit of fur!"

"You wish me to freeze, Sniff?" Snufkin asked through his pipe, his voice as monotone as he could manage. "How cold, Sniff. How cruel."

"Lemme touch your fur," Little My ordered, wriggling into Moomintroll's lap to get closer to him.

"Why?" he questioned, trying not to look too grossed out.

"I didn't reveal your dumb, dark secret," she replied, sticking her tongue out.

That was true, Snufkin thought. He lifted up the shirt. Little My went straight for where the fur was thicker, on his back, patting it like one would pet a dog. Snufkin puffed on his pipe, trying to ignore her.

"Hurry, Moomin, while he doesn't expect it," Little My hissed behind him, before the softest paw he'd ever felt in his life touched his back. Snufkin stiffened, almost dropping his pipe, his face bright red.

"I'm sorry, Snufkin," Moomin apologized lightly, though he kept petting lightly over the fur there.

"It's alright," Snufkin told him, forcing himself to relax a bit. "Little My is like that."

"I'm a lady," Little My stated.

Both she and Moomin kept patting Snufkin's back. If he wasn't so uncomfortable and if it had been just Moomin, Snufkin would've purred.

"Is it soft?" Snorkmaiden broke the silence to ask, curious.

"No," Moomin and Little My responded, at the same time, but didn't stop. Snufkin flushed a bit darker at that, almost offended.

"Why are you still..?" he squeaked in embarrassment when Moominmamma walked in with mugs of warm drinks and tried desperately to shove the shirt back down. Moomin and Little My made the action difficult by keeping their paws on his back.

"Oh!" Moominmamma gasped, eyes darting around. Snufkin could only imagine how it looked to her, the red on his face darkening a bit more at the thought. She was silent for a moment, before gently offering, "Would you like me to come back later?"

"I'm going to go throw myself into the ocean," Snufkin explained, getting to his feet. Moomin's soft fur running down his back, before finally falling next to Little My's, made Snufkin's own fur stand on end.

"Oh, Snufkin Dear," Moominmamma chuckled, amused as she patted his head soothingly. "Don't do that. I made you some coffee."

"I guess I can stick around a bit longer," Snufkin grumbled, but sat down. Moomin and Little My both raised their paws again, only for Snufkin to embarrass himself thoroughly by hissing at them. They dropped their paws.

"I still think it's stupid to wear clothes over fur," Sniff decided to share with them all.

"All Mumriks wear clothes," Moominmamma explained with a soft smile, giving Snufkin his mug first. "It's specifically to keep Mymbles and Moomins from jumping them."

Moomin's face flushed a charming pink. Little My snickered, even as she discreetly crawled into Snufkin's lap to accept her hot chocolate. The subject was dropped, though Snufkin could tell Sniff didn't understand the explanation. He glared at him, while Snorkmaiden giggled, and Sniff dropped his gaze to look at his own mug. It was only fair for Sniff not to understand, Snufkin thought, since he'd brought up the dumb conversation topic.

 

Snufkin sat with the Joxter and Little My, that evening. They were mostly silent, except for the crackle of the fire in front of them and the racing of Snufkin's thoughts. He looked about ready to vibrate out of his skin. Joxter and Little My waited for him to get his thoughts together.

"He wanted to pet me!" Snufkin finally exclaimed. "Does that mean he likes me?"

"I wanted to pet you and I don't like you," Little My replied immediately.

"Don't crush my dreams," Snufkin snapped, but seemed a little put-out.

"We're going about this all wrong," Joxter commented, smacking himself lightly on the head. "Moomins prefer birds!"

"What do you mean?" Snufkin asked.

"Well, why else would Moominpappa never sleep with me? Obviously, the rats weren't what he wanted," Joxter explained.

"You are dumber than a pile of bricks," Little My stated.

"He wanted a bird!" Joxter finished, loudly, as though Little My hadn't said anything. 

"I don't know," Snufkin muttered. "That doesn't sound quite right, to me."

"What's wrong with it?" Joxter questioned, then seemed to zone out. "Do you think-"

"He's married!" Little My exploded, hitting him with her tiny fists. "He has a child!"

"I'm okay with that!" Joxter complained, trying to stop the barrage. "I met Moominmaiden! She could join-"

"I don't want to think about you having sex, Filthy!" she whined, not letting up. "You're gross! You haven't taken a bath in your life! Dirty!"

"So, a bath-"

Little My screeched. Throughout, Snufkin watched with his eyes distant, chewing on the end of his unlit pipe. Moomin had always reminded Snufkin of a dove. A fluffy, winter-coat dove with its feathers all ruffled and its eyes shining bright. Snufkin had always thought that Moomin and doves would go nice together. He couldn't kill a dove, ever, with that in mind. But, showing Moomin a dove would make him happy. Moomin loved birds, he always pointed them out and tried to whistle like them. Killing a bird seemed a bit counter-intuitive. 

"I never tried giving him a bird!" Joxter exclaimed. "You don't know it wouldn't work, Little My!"

Then, again...

Snufkin waited until Little My had tired herself out to the point where Joxter had to sneak into Moominhouse to put her to bed. She'd been cradled in his elbow, fast asleep. Joxter had purred at the sight until Snufkin elbowed him so he'd get moving. Snufkin waited further for his father to fall asleep at the top of a tree nearby, this signified by the way Joxter didn't purr whenever Snufkin passed underneath him. After he was sure Joxter was asleep, Snufkin waited an extra hour, just to really make sure that nobody was up but him. Then, and only then, did he sneak into the forest, with a little pot in his hand.

Catching a bird was easy in the evening. Snufkin found an injured, ancient old bird sitting at the base of a tree. He put the pot over it, scooping it into said pot and cupping his hand over the top. Looking around, he carefully bit into the little bird until it bled, then held his teeth there a moment more to make sure it died. He felt a little guilty looking at it, but that didn't stop him from sneaking back to Moominhouse. With his slow pace, it took a lot longer to get there, to the point where the sun was just slightly rising. 

Holding the bird in his mouth was easier than the pot, so Snufkin quickly scale the rope ladder to Moomin's room, set the bird delicately on the windowsill, then scrambled down. He looked down at his ruined, blood-stained pot, and decided to rinse it out before anyone saw it and connected the dots.

Moomin found him in the river, an hour of scrubbing later. Snufkin glanced up, quickly, thinking it was Little My or Joxter, but he smiled at the sight of Moomin.

"Good morning, Moomintroll," he greeted, hoping he didn't sound too infatuated, as he spoke.

"There was a dead bird on my windowsill," Moomin stated.

Snufkin looked at him again, brows raised. He'd figured it out. He knew Snufkin was a gross creature who left him dead things. He hated him. This was the end of their friendship, forever.

"Mamma said cats like to leave presents," Moomin continued. "So, I was wondering if you've seen any cats wandering around Moominvalley."

"Only the usual ones," Snufkin replied, hiding his relieved sigh by turning back to his pot cleaning. "They stay in the forest. They don't like anyone very much."

"Oh, Snufkin," Moomin sighed, flopping down on the grass and staring across the water dejectedly. "I don't mind the dead animals - they all seem pretty old - but I wish I knew who was leaving them around. What if they're someone's lunch?"

"I don't think anyone's eating their lunch on your windowsill," Snufkin assured him, even as his heart nearly pounded out of his chest. Moomin didn't mind the dead animals! That didn't mean it was working, of course, but that meant it wasn't not working! Maybe, Snufkin considered, Joxter was on to something. He quickly shook that thought away, because the idea of Joxter being right about anything made him uncomfortable.

"That does sound pretty dangerous," Moomin commented. "What do you think it is, Snufkin?"

Snufkin knew exactly what it was. However, if Joxter was wrong or Moomin was anything like Moominpappa, Snufkin would rather him not find out near moving water.

"O-owls drop things, sometimes," Snufkin offered, awkwardly.

"Oh!" Moomin looked excited, then confused. "But, the porch-"

"Fickle creatures, owls are," Snufkin insisted, rubbing a bit harder at the pot.

Moomin seemed to ponder this. Snufkin figured his pot was as clean as it'd ever be, so he climbed out of the river. He could feel Moomin watching him, but dismissed it as Moomin just watching him go about his business. He shoved his pot back into his large bag, then tried to dry his legs on a blanket.

"Do you own a brush, Snufkin?" Moomin asked, suddenly.

"I've never seen much of a use for one," Snufkin told him. "I use my fingers."

Moomin let out a cute little huff. 

"You should at least have one for special occasions," he said.

Snufkin sat beside Moomin to pull his boots back on, asking, "What do you mean?"

"Well, what if you meet someone cute on your travels and you want to impress them?" Moomin questioned.

Snufkin froze. He was an idiot. This whole time, he should've just asked Moomin how to woo himself. Step one, obviously, was a brushing. If Moomin thought it would impress someone else, that obviously meant it might impress him. Snufkin tried not to look too excited.

"That's a point, I guess," he said, trying not to sound like his heart was beating out of his chest. "How would I go about getting a brush?"

"How'd you get your other possessions?" Moomin asked, which was a fair point.

"I stole them from park keepers and orphanage owners," Snufkin replied automatically, then started getting to his feet.

"Wait! No! Don't steal from the park keeper!" Moomin exclaimed, scrambling up beside him. "You can just borrow mine!"

Snufkin blushed. 

"I can?" he asked. The same brush that made Moomin feel softer than clouds.

"Of course!" Moomin chirped, taking Snufkin's paw and guiding him back to the house. "Of course, you have to bathe before you brush."

"You do?" Snufkin questioned. That didn't sound quite right.

"Yes," Moomin replied, very sure of himself. "It's quite necessary. You have to use soaps, too. More than one. Preferably in bubbles."

"Oh my," Snufkin sighed, though he'd already vowed to do what he could to impress Moomin. "Grooming is very difficult."

"I don't mind helping," Moomin said.

Snufkin smiled. He was an angel.

The first part of bathing was awful, even with Moomintroll doing his best to distract him. It was scratchy and the soap was stiff and Moominmamma had to press quite hard to get some of the mud off. She gave apologetic sounds every time he stiffened, which lessened the worse of it somewhat. The second part of bathing, where Moominmamma drained and washed out the tub, then filled it with bubbles, was way nicer. Snufkin couldn't stop the purr from erupting from his chest, poking at the large, pink bubbles. It was wonderful and Snufkin never wanted to leave or move. Moominmamma left the room, and Snufkin couldn't help but relax into the side of the tub.

"Soaps aren't necessary, Moomintroll," he purred. "I think lounging would be just fine."

"You don't want to brush?" Moomin asked.

Snufkin was torn. That was the whole purpose of this. But, the tub was so nice. The bubbles were also very nice. Moomin laughed.

"You're always welcome to come back here to bathe, Snufkin," he stated, then handed him a bottle.

Snufkin stared at him. Moomin stared back. It took a moment, but Moomin eventually giggled a bit and sat behind Snufkin, massaging the soap into his hair. Snufkin rubbed the soap into the fur on the rest of his body. It didn't take very long before they were on the second soap, this one thicker and syrupy. Moomin hummed behind him, working into his fur. Snufkin smiled at the bubbles. It was nice.

Cocooned in a towel, moments later, Snufkin followed Moomin to his room. Little My fell into step beside him, confused and sniffing the air.

"You smell like flowers," she told Snufkin, vaguely disturbed.

"Moomin told me that the scented water was necessary before brushing," Snufkin told her, wondering how she could stand that when she had to brush her hair. He was a bit surprised when Little My gave Moomin a judgmental look, though Moomin ignored it. She closed the door behind them as Moomin dug through his drawer. Snufkin shifted nervously.

"Will it hurt?" he asked.

"I did my best so it wouldn't," Moomin promised, which relaxed Snufkin quite a bit.

"Can I put bows in your hair?" Little My questioned, strangely excited, as Snufkin sat down on the bed.

"Why would you want to?" he questioned back. "You have ten little sisters to play with."

"Mymble always says I suck at hair and won't let me!" she complained. "I wanna practice! C'mon, Snufkin!"

"I guess it can't hurt?" he asked.

She smiled excitedly, darting out of the room. Snufkin stiffened when Moomin ran the brush through his hair, more surprised than anything else. It didn't even hurt, Snufkin thought, which meant Moomin was a fur wizard.

"Are you okay?" Moomin asked nervously. "I can stop."

"No, it's fine," Snufkin replied, forcing his shoulders down. "I just didn't expect it."

"Oh! Sorry."

Moomin gave a soft word of warning before he began brushing again. Little My returned very quickly with a fist-full of ribbons of multiple colours. She took the brush from Moomin, her brushing much more confident than Moomins. Soon, surprisingly gently, Little My had put her brother's hair into two ponytails behind each ear. Moomin smiled, so Snufkin assumed it was fine.

"You're good at this, Little My," Snufkin commented, since he didn't believe her story about Mymble not letting her brush her siblings' hair.

She ran the brush down the fur on his back, then said, with no small amount of pride, "I have to brush my own hair every morning."

Snufkin took the brush when she offered it to him. Snufkin ran it curiously down his chest to his stomach, purring at the nice sensation.

"Brushes are nice, I suppose," he murmured with a smile.

Moomin whispered something that Snufkin just couldn't hear.

"What was that?" he asked, looking over.

"Nothing!" Moomin exclaimed, covering Little My's mouth. "Little My, why don't you go grab Snufkin's clothes?"

He herded her out of the room, then returned to Snufkin's side on the bed. He ran his soft, wonderful paw down the fur on Snufkin's back. Snufkin's purring increased in volume.

"You're very soft, now," Moomin told him brightly. "I bet you'd woo anyone you like like this."

"You think so?" Snufkin asked, looking back at Moomin.

"Maybe without the ribbons," Moomin suggested.

Snufkin blinked at him, confused. He'd forgotten about the green ribbons, though he laughed at the reminder. He reached up to play with one of the little ponytails.

"I quite like them, Moomintroll," he teased. "Perhaps, I'll keep my hair like this."

Moomin laughed until Little My threw Snufkin's clothes at his head. Moomin and Little My looked away while he got dressed, quickly. He held his hat, playing with the little ponytails again. The three of them went downstairs.

"You look very lovely, Snufkin," Moominmamma complimented at the sight of him.

"Thank you for letting me use your tub," Snufkin replied.

"Anytime, Dear," she responded with a knowing smile.

Snufkin blushed. Moomin and Little My spent the afternoon brushing through his hair and trying different hairstyles, even though they couldn't do much with the length. That night was spent much the same, though both Snufkin and Little My were honestly shocked by how talented Joxter was with a brush.

"Why are you so good at that?" Little My asked, as Joxter pulled Snufkin's hair into a bun on the very top of his head, much like Little My's.

"I adopted twenty something kids who all wear the same hairstyle," Joxter bragged, patting the bun.

"I appreciate it," Snufkin commented sarcastically. "I've always wanted to look like my sisters."

"Little sister," Little My whispered.

"I was born a boy," Snufkin told her.

"You can change that easily," she argued.

"I've always wanted a cute little Mumrik daughter," Joxter commented.

"Can we talk about this another time?" Snufkin murmured.

They agreed, but only so they could play with his hair more.

 

Snufkin was happy that their friends had let him have the day alone with Moomin. It gave him plenty of excuses to hold his paw to help him over rough terrain. He was disappointed, albeit in himself, for catching the bat that attacked Moomintroll in his mouth, blood seeping down his throat and chin. Snufkin immediately felt dumb.

"Snufkin!" Moomin exclaimed, which Snufkin flinched at because that meant Moomin was upset and furious and hated him, he was pretty sure. "Mamma washed that shirt yesterday! Oh, I hope she isn't upset."

"Are you upset?" Snufkin mumbled, as he pulled the bat from his mouth. It was dead. Stupid bat, dying so easily.

"Of course not!" Moomin laughed, gripping Snufkin's free paw. "You saved me from that bat!"

"You're really not upset?" Snufkin asked, hopefully, as he dropped the bat on the floor.

"Promise," Moomin chirped. "Though you might want to wipe off your mouth. I can only tell myself it's raspberry jam so much."

Snufkin hurriedly wiped off his mouth with the paw Moomin wasn't holding. Later, he told Little My and Joxter about the trip as they sat around the fire. Little My looked a bit grossed out that Moomin wasn't grossed out. Joxter looked pretty confused, too.

"This Moomintroll of yours is a tough one," Joxter sighed, rubbing his jaw. "He doesn't mind dead animals. He doesn't mind love letters. He wants to pet you. He gave you a bath."

"He's weird," Little My stated.

"That too," Joxter agreed. "But, maybe you were onto something yesterday. Maybe, we should just ask Moomintroll how he'd like to be wooed."

"I refuse to ask Moomin about emotions," Little My immediately stated.

"That's fine, Little My," Joxter said, perking up. "I can ask him!"

Snufkin and Little My stared at him. He beamed.

"I'll just visit the Moomins and ask him while I'm there," he explained. "I bet Moominmaiden - sorry, Moominmamma - knows a bunch about wooing Moomintrolls, too!"

"What about Moominpappa?" Little My asked.

"It's funny that you think he wooed his wife instead of the other way around," Joxter snickered.

"That's a great idea and all," Snufkin sighed. "But, won't they think it's a bit weird that you just showed up out of nowhere?"

"I've got that covered," Joxter stated, which sounded ominous. However, since they were currently out of ideas, Little My and Joxter entered the Moominhouse together. Little My went upstairs while Joxter, he explained, wanted to see how long it would take for someone to see him standing on the counter. 

Three hours later, after Snufkin had already fallen asleep outside of his tent by the smoldering fire pit, Joxter woke him up with a smile. Snufkin got to his feet, wearily, waiting.

"Love letters," Joxter winked.

Snufkin thought for a moment, blushed, and went into his tent.

 

"Snufkin," Moomin sighed, smiling at the letter Snufkin handed him. "You have to know that I love you already! You don't need to woo me."

"Just in case," Snufkin responded, pulling his hat down to hide his blush.

Moomin took Snufkin's paws away from his face, then nuzzled the bright red skin. Snufkin purred and hugged Moomin desperately, like he'd been waiting to do since the first hug of spring. Moomin hugged him back.

"Did you really think the dead mouse would work?" Moomin asked.

"Don't make fun of me," Snufkin grumbled, burying his face in Moomin's fur. "I panicked. Dad told me it always worked for him."

"Pappa didn't even know what it meant, he thought Joxter wanted to prank him."

"That's why I didn't put it on your pillow," Snufkin explained.

"I love you," Moomin laughed.

Snufkin accepted this with another hug.


End file.
